I’m always coming up with something.
A new job I think I’d love. A business idea that shows up in my head fully formed. A website I start building at 1am with no plan except “maybe this could be something.” For a minute, I’m all in. I feel like this time, it’s really going to change everything.
And then, sometimes quietly and sometimes suddenly, I don’t finish.
I used to hate that about myself. Still kind of do. I thought it meant I was flaky or unreliable or just someone who talks a lot and doesn’t follow through. But lately I’ve been trying to see it differently. I’m not failing. I’m searching. Trying. Dreaming a little too big maybe, but at least I’m not giving up on the idea that something better could exist for me.
My life right now is a mix of hope and tiredness. I want to move forward, but I also need to forgive myself for not getting everything done perfectly. Or on time. Or at all.
Some of those ideas were just steps to get me somewhere else. Maybe they weren’t meant to last. Maybe they were just reminders that I’m still alive enough to want things.
I’m learning how to hold both. The part of me that’s tired of starting over. And the part of me that still believes starting over might actually lead somewhere good.
